


Precious Memories

by sparklyscorpion



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: F/M, First Love, Forbidden Love, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyscorpion/pseuds/sparklyscorpion
Summary: Leroux-based. Christine returns to Perros-Guirec after graduating from the Conservatory, but nothing is the same without her childhood companion by her side.





	Precious Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting to go through my old drabbles and seeing which ones can be cleaned up for posting - this is the first, but not the last! :) Originally titled "Children No Longer" and only one hundred words, I've added a bit to it.

After Christine graduated from the Conservatory, Mama Valérius proposed that they travel to the Breton shore again to celebrate, just for a week or two, before Christine started at her new position in the chorus of the Opéra Garnier.

It had been quite some time since either of them had left Paris for more than a couple of days; Christine had had her studies to occupy her time, even though she'd felt no particular enthusiasm for them, and Mama's strength was beginning to noticeably fade. It was becoming painfully clear to Christine that Mama's days were limited, with only a few good years left, perhaps, before she, too, was gone. Once Mama passed, Christine would be truly alone for the first time in her life. She wasn't sure that she'd be able to stand it, so she said nothing and only smiled when Mama talked about the vacation, because Christine knew that it would most likely be their last.

Perros-Guirec _looked_ the same - the sky, the sand, the choppy sea, the rocky shore - but Christine knew that it wasn't, because Papa and Raoul weren't here. Her papa was dead, and Raoul...well, Raoul was so far out of her reach that he may as well be, too.

Mama was weak and tired from the journey to Perros, leaving Christine to entertain herself most of the time. But the entire town haunted Christine to the point of near madness; she couldn't find peace anywhere, no matter how she tried. The salt in the air reminded the young woman of Raoul, dashing and young and carefree, rushing into the sea to save her red scarf. The winding cobblestone streets made her recall how she and Raoul had begged for stories as young children, as desperate for them as a starving man was for a loaf of bread.

She spent several afternoons in the cemetery at her father's gravesite, alternately weeping and sitting in stony silence, but Christine found no solace there, either. She missed her papa terribly, and yet she was already beginning to forget the sound of his voice.

In desperation, Christine tried to take comfort in the gardens, but there the cruelest memories lurked, waiting to be rediscovered. It had been here, on this bench, that she and Raoul had spent their last afternoon, their lips talking about nothing and yet their hearts beating in the same rhythm. It had felt like something new had formed between them, tender and sweet, and yet it would never be allowed to bloom. She could still feel Raoul's lips brushing against her palm, still hear his fervent declaration that he would never forget her…

Christine had fled to the gardens a girl that day, and she had left them a few hours later as a young woman, her soul aching for things that would never be. Even then, starry-eyed as she had been, Christine had known that there was no future for them, at least not together. Raoul would do his duty to his family, just as she would to hers.

Maybe, someday, their paths would cross again in Paris - Raoul with his elegant society wife on his arm, Christine on the stage - and their eyes would meet, just briefly, and they'd both think of what could have been in another time, in another place. That shared dream, and the precious memories of their childhood, would be the only happiness they were allowed.

"I won't forget you, either," Christine whispered to herself, curling her hand into a fist and pressing it against her chest. She hadn't been able to say the words aloud then - Raoul had been quick to take his leave after their shy embrace, and Christine had been afraid to call after him, afraid of letting him know just how much he had meant to her, too.

But perhaps, just perhaps, the same wind that now tore at her hair and swept the bitter tears from her cheeks would find Raoul, wherever he was, and carry her words to him, letting him know that she, too, shared his longing for the impossible.


End file.
